


Skelecrush

by KarenR2



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, F/M, Kids AU, littletale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:26:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5418761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarenR2/pseuds/KarenR2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t really think much of her until one particular Show and Tell day, where he told a skele-ton of horrible jokes, and her hysterical laughter shot him through like a cupid's arrow--aimed and true. Soriel. Littletale AU. Set when they are just little kids, and attend the same school/class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skelecrush

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Just a little Soriel thing. Very much fluff <3 Set in a world where they are just tiny child-babs and they grew up in the same school. =w=

 

* * *

He didn’t really think much of her until one particular Show and Tell day.

It was his turn to present but, naturally, the little skeleton had been too lazy to prepare or bring anything. When his name was called, the teacher had quirked an eyebrow at him as he came up to the front of the class empty-handed.

“Sans, dear, where’s your show and tell?” the teacher asked him patiently.

Sans gave her a boyish little smile, his hands shoved in his jacket pockets. “It’s me, ma’am,” he said, rocking on his heels. “I’m the show.”

All eyes were on him, perplexed and curious, and the teacher’s brow furrowed even more. After a beat, she was won over by the little skeleton’s grin and she sighed. “Alright, go on,” she relented, sitting back in her chair at the teacher’s desk.

The class seemed to hold their breath in anticipation as Sans coughed into a tiny fist and then began in a slightly high-pitched, casual voice, “Hello everyone. As you know, I am Sans, and today I will be telling you a  _skeleton_  of jokes.”

There was an abrupt, loud, distraught cry of protest from the class, which surprised everyone (but Sans) and caused them to jump in their seats with a jolt. “Papyrus!” the teacher snapped. “Don’t interrupt your brother!”

Sans grinned at his taller skeleton brother, while the other just flushed red and faceplanted into his desk with a final, defeated  _thud_ , earning alarmed looks from those sitting around him. Undeterred, Sans resumed his show.

“You know which fruit kids dislike the most?” Sans casually asked the class of blankly staring children. “A bana-na-na-na-na!” He was met with silence. “If you break a tomato, how do you fix it? With tomato paste!” There was a snort, an unsure giggle. “And how do you fix a pumpkin? Why, with a pumpkin patch, of course!” Some kids were staring at him with uncomprehending faces while others shifted their eyes to their teacher, wondering how she was letting this continue. “How do you make a strawberry shake? You put it in the freezer!” No response. “Why was the tomato blushing? Because it saw the salad dressing.” It was okay; he could do this all day. “How did the story of a red apple and a green apple end--”

Suddenly, his speech was interrupted. Not by a scream of frustration, not by a groan of protest, not by a cry of outrage, but by--

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!  _SALAD DRESSING_! I GET IT!”

All eyes whipped towards the speaker in a single, synchronised movement. Their jaws dropped when they realised who the laughing kid was.

It was Toriel, one of the cheeriest girls in class and the most well-liked. She was laughing uncontrollably with bleats and snorts, holding her stomach as she shook in her chair. Her face was flushed pink with mirth and her eyes were squeezed shut, a single droplet of a tear just barely visible in the corner. When she calmed down and blinked her blurry eyes open, she saw everyone staring at her and she immediately zipped up. A second passed by, her face turning red, and she asked, “Why are you staring at me?” She smiled broadly. “It was  _funny_!”

The class didn’t completely look like they agreed with her; most of the children were just really, really confused. They didn’t get the jokes.

“Sorry for interrupting!” Toriel sang, voice angelic and oozing innocence. She clasped her hands together and placed them neatly in front of her on the desk. She was the picture of an angel who could do no wrong.

The teacher coughed. “That’s quite alright, dear.” She turned to look at Sans. “Sans? You may continue.”

But the little skeleton was fixated on Toriel, his eyes never leaving her. When the little goat looked at him, their eyes connected and Sans immediately dropped his gaze, feeling sick.But a good kind of sick. Like the kind where there were butterflies in your belly wanting to escape and it made you tingle all over, but it wasn’t a bad feeling because the butterflies were happy. He felt his face burning, still hearing the echo of her laughter, and he murmured to the ground, “No, I’m finished now. That’s it.” He was too embarrassed to finish his scripted jokes. He didn’t want to be here anymore, where everyone was staring at him.

“Okay. Well, that was very good, Sans. Everyone, please congratulate Sans for a wonderful show and tell.”

The children made an obligatory applause while not really thinking the lazy skeleton deserved it and Sans hastily made his way back into his seat. As he did, he passed by Toriel.

She was the only one clapping genuinely and grinning at him.

When Sans sat back in his seat (his brother scooted his desk away from him a little in embarrassment), he stared at the back of Toriel’s head. He didn’t stop staring until Papyrus hit him with a ball of paper and he was forced to deal retribution, and the teacher caught them in their play and gave them both a time-out, Papyrus bawling and repenting for his naughtiness while Sans just stood there passively. Every so often, his eyes would glance towards a certain kid, and the sight of her reminded him of crisp, joyous laughter that echoed in his head.

It was then that he decided: he wanted her to be his friend.

* * *

Toriel was a very popular girl. She was pretty, smart, fun, and very, very nice. To Sans, she was a nice person, but he wouldn’t have considered hanging out with her-- she wasn’t his type of friend. Or, so he thought. That recess, he went to go find her. Not to his surprise, she was surrounded by friends, talking animatedly to them with a large, charming grin and grand gestures. Seeing her so happy, Sans didn’t have the courage to approach her anymore, and turned to walk away. However, she must have spotted him, because then he heard,

“Hey! Sans! Wait up!”

from behind him.

The skeleton turned, surprised, to see her running towards him. He began to get nervous the closer that she drew near.

“You! I want you to explain those other jokes to me!”

“Huh?” Sans asked, dumbfounded.

“Tell them to me again!” she demanded earnestly, her eyes sparkling. “And you were going to tell another joke too, something about apples! Don’t try to fool me, mister! I want to hear it!”

“Uhhh...” Sans looked behind her and saw the kids that she was previously hanging out with staring at them curiously. The fact that Toriel had actually ran after  _him,_ however, was very flattering for reasons unknown and Sans straightened his back slightly and grinned. “Well, if you must know...”

Sans didn’t know how to explain how he felt around her. She was just so... lively. Her warm red eyes fixated on him like he was the only kid in the world; she listened to him intently like every word he said was of dire importance. She laughed easily, high-pitched and broken bleats, and her face glowed a pretty pink as she did. It was like.. being surrounded by boundless energy, by an endless source of life. And when she gave him jokes of her  _own_...

Sans was mesmerised--hit by a cupid’s arrow, without even knowing what a cupid was.

* * *

They became fast friends, he and her. They clicked together like pieces of a puzzle, each of them brightening the other’s day with jokes and lame puns. Everyone was surprised by this strange, new-found friendship. The skeleton brothers were always the weird ones in the class, so how did the shortest, quietest one become so important to the class’s princess? But they took it to stride, because with Toriel’s influence, the skeleton brothers were slowly becoming noticed and liked. The class realised that they were pretty cool.

Sans, however, didn’t really care about his growing acceptance into the class clique. All he cared about was his friendship with Toriel.

* * *

 At some point, Sans began to be aware of his thoughts and feelings concerning the little goat monster.

He liked to see her smile. He wanted to make her happy, but not only that, he wanted to be the one to make her the  _happiest_. He took pride in being the one who made her laugh the loudest, the most. He was smug whenever Toriel chose to hang out with him rather than her other friends. He was particularly fond of the times he was alone with Toriel, so that they could laugh and play together without anyone else competing for her attention. 

He was naturally lazy, but sometimes he’d pretend to be lazier than usual just so she could grab his hand in an impatient huff and drag him off to the next adventure she had in store for them. He’d fake reluctance just so she can hold him tighter and physically pull him along. He’d threaten to fall asleep right on the spot, sagging his body and surrendering to gravity, just so she could pick him up and start carrying him.

He was very sneaky indeed, and he didn’t even have to worry about getting ‘cooties’ because he didn’t have any skin to be infected with. She liked to take charge and he liked to follow her lead, and they didn’t have to worry about girl or boy germs because she was a goat monster and he was a skeleton kid. It was perfect.

* * *

“Hey, Sans?” his brother asked him one day.

“Yeah, bro?” came Sans’s lazy response.

“Do you like Toriel?”

“Of course I like Tori. She’s my best friend--besides from you, of course.”

“No, I mean...” Papyrus’s face scrunched up. “Do you  _like_  like Toriel?”

“Huh?”

“Do you want to make kissy-kiss faces with her?”

Sans’s eyes grew wide and he flushed blue. “What! Gross, bro! Why would I do that?”

“Because you  _like_  like her.”

“I don’t!”

Papyrus grinned at him, his eyes knowing. “You do.”

“I don’t!” Sans buried his face in his hands, feeling hot. “I don’t...”

“You do.” Papyrus pat his back in sympathy. “And it’s super gross. But I accept you anyway.”

Sans just silently screamed.

* * *

Sans didn’t really like Asgore.

Asgore was super nice all the time and was always helping people, but he still didn’t like him. Sans suspected it was because of Toriel.

“Asgore is really nice and he’s really cute sometimes--especially when he stutters--and one day, I think I’m going to marry him.”

Yeah. Sans didn’t like him at all.

“Marry him?” Sans said, aghast, and feeling his heart start breaking. “Why? You’re still just a kid!”

Toriel balanced on the beam, walking across it like an acrobat on a tightrope, her arms held out at her sides. “My family and his family have known each other for a long,  _long_  time. His mommy and daddy are friends with my mommy and daddy, and they said that we might get married because we have good blood and Asgore will grow up to be ‘very dependable’ and if we become a family, we’ll be really, really powerful!”

Sans frowned deeply, holding out a skeleton hand for her just in case she lost her balance and fell. “That’s not right,” he said with a scowl. “Don’t people marry other people because they like each other?”

“I like Asgore,” Toriel said casually, her voice a little airy.

Crack. “Do you...” Sans gulped. “Do you  _like_  like Asgore?”

Toriel hummed and then jumped off the beam. “I don’t know,” she confessed, tilting her head and staring off into the distance.

Sans frowned at her and said, “You can’t marry him unless you  _like_  like him, okay?” he said, firmly, feeling his chest burning. He felt like he was going to be sick. “Otherwise, you won’t be happy!”

Toriel looked at him, surprised. She’d never seen the smaller skeleton be so serious before. “... Okay,” she said, blinking. 

“Promise!”

“I promise!”

Sans nodded and, for the first time ever, took the initiative and grabbed  _her_  hand. “Good.” He wished he could make her promise that she won’t marry him  _ever_ , but he could live with this. “Now let’s forget Asgore and just play on the swings. I’ll push  _you_  this time.”

Toriel gaped and allowed herself to be dragged by the smaller child. “Wow, for real?” she exclaimed, excited and completely forgetting all thoughts of another pure-bred goat monster.

Sans’s grip tightened slightly. “When  _push_  comes to  _shove_ ,” he said, wearing a skeleton grin, “I’m pretty dependable too, you know.”

* * *

Sans didn’t like it when she hung out with Asgore.

Sometimes he made her laugh, and sometimes he made her face turn pink.

Sans didn’t like it when that happened. Not one bit.

* * *

One day, when he was brooding and moping around, Papyrus had interrogated him about why he was so sad, and Sans broke and confessed. 

“He’s going to take her away from me!” he blurted, nearly in tears. Papyrus was surprised. His brother was usually so calm and chill; he’d noticed that it was only with or about Toriel that he got so weird. “She’s going to like him better than me, and she won’t want to be my friend anymore, and--!”

Papyrus soothed his brother and patted his back. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sans!” the taller skeleton said loudly. “She still plays with you the most! You’re her best friend!”

“But...”

“If you want her to like you better, then give her a flower!”

Sans looked at his brother strangely. “A... flower?”

Papyrus nodded, smiling brightly. “Yup! Girls like that sort of stuff!” He put his hands on his hips and posed dramatically. “I am the great Papyrus!” he said, voice raising a pitch. “I know all about girls!”

Sans highly doubted it, but he still stared at his brother in awe. He decided that he would trust him.

* * *

He wondered if the flower was too much. It was something completely out of character for him. It didn’t fit with his image at all. It was dumb. He shouldn’t do it, and save himself the embarrassment.

But it was already too late. His body had been on automatic pilot mode while he was making this decision process, and before he knew it, he was in front of Toriel. 

He shouldn’t give her the flower. It was so stupid. She might get the wrong idea, because girls always get the wrong idea, and what if she ends up thinking that he  _likes_  likes her or something...?

But Toriel could be crazy insistent when she wanted to be, and her curiosity forced his hand and he had to give the flower to her. Her eyes had widened and she turned a pretty pink again, but there was something different in her demeanour this time. Sans didn’t know quite what it was for a second, before he realised it was because she wasn’t looking at him.

“Thank you, Sans,” she said in a quiet whisper, unable to make eye contact with him.

Sans’s imaginary heart thudded against his rib cage in an electrical jolt.

Okay, he thought to himself, looking down as well and flushing blue.

Maybe he did like like her.

Just a little bit.

* * *

One day, Toriel had an obsession with weddings, because the night before she and her parents had watched a romantic movie together that involved a giant wedding for the main characters.

“You are the groom!” Toriel dictated, placing him just right by a tree. She walked away, while Sans stared after her in puzzlement. “I am the bride! I’m wearing this really, really pretty white dress with this pretty cloth-thing on my head, and I’m walking towards you in this aisle in a church!” 

Toriel then proceeded to retrace her steps, but this time in a calmer and more regal manner. Sans stared at her as she approached and he couldn’t help but think the royal air she adopted in this pretend-play was very fitting. She finally stepped beside him and then turned to face him. “There’s a priest in front of us, and Papyrus is the ring bearer.”

“Why Papyrus?” Sans interrupted.

“Because he’s your brother!”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Your brother is the ring bearer,” Toriel continued patiently, “and he’s just given us the rings. Here’s yours.” She pretended to put a ring on Sans’s finger. After she did, she gave Sans an expectant look and the skeleton repeated her action, amused. “Then we say our vows!” she exclaimed, suddenly grabbing both of Sans’s hands. “I will never, ah, be with another”--she scrunched up her face a little, trying to remember the words from the movie--“I am yours, forever and ever, ‘til death do us part. Yes! Your turn!”

Sans opened his mouth, but found that his mind was blank. Toriel was staring at him too intently, and she was still holding his hands, and although he was aware that this was just  _pretend_ , it was still like--

“Heh,” Sans managed to breathe out weakly. “I’m yours too. Even in death though, because, you know--” He shrugged and grinned broadly. “I’m technically already a skeleton.” He gasped dramatically and with exaggerated alarm, looked at his boney limbs. “In fact, I  _femur_  your groom is  _already_  dead!”

Toriel lost it, and her hysteria brought Sans down with her.

They were just easing off from their hysterical laughing fit when they realised that they’d both fallen to the ground at some point. They were out of breath and blushing, lying on the grass together . Their giggles slowly stopped until Sans was becoming increasingly aware that they were looking at each other quite intimately.

“Hey, Sans...” Toriel suddenly said, whispering. 

“Yeah?” Sans asked, heartbeat in his eardrums.

Toriel blushed deeply and looked down. “If we still like each other when we’re older... do you think... we can get married for real?”

Sans could barely believe what he was hearing. His mind whirred to a stop, and yet his body still managed to say, “Yeah.”

Toriel looked at him, surprised and red. “... Really?”

Sans didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to smile without breaking into another fit of hysterical laughter. “Yeah,” he said again, not completely understanding the painful yet pleasant twisting in his stomach. “Why not?”

She beamed at him and giggled. “You’re silly.” Their knees were touching, but neither moved away.

Sans couldn’t help but grin in return. “No, I’m not. I’m Sans.”

Toriel threw another fit.

* * *

“How did the story of a red apple and a green apple end?”

“How, Sans?”

“They lived  _apple-_ y ever after.”

A lively laugh, one that he’d hear for the rest of his life now. “Well, aren’t I  _grape_ -ful to hear that!”

Maybe he did like like her.

Maybe he did like like her  _a lot_. More than he could ever describe, and Sans was okay with that. He could deal with a crush. He could deal with anything more.

* * *

 


End file.
